9/1/2023 0 Comments Sara chambers treasure hunterBut Blackshaw isn’t interested in view, but the window itself, in light, in subtle grays and whites, in focusing A clothesline hung over gravel behind the garage. One window full of pine branches and sky, the other a slope, too steep for lawn, wild in June with daisies and vetch. A window on each exterior wall, my bed in the windowless corner. I’m back in my first bedroom-I could draw a map of it to this day. A shade pulls down with a lifesaver loop, which swings until settled. Opening or closing requires a strong shove. ![]() “Everything we look at is conditioned by the eye of memory.”-Ciaran Carsonīlackshaw’s windows are the upright rectangles of my childhood. Kenyon Review Award for Literary Achievement.Developmental Editing Fellowship for Emerging Writers. ![]() The Patricia Grodd Poetry Prize for Young Writers.
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